


The Streets of New York

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint and Natasha are homeless, F/F, Gayness ensues, M/M, PIETRO ISNT DEAD FUCKERS, everyone is 16 to 18, hahah bitch, i started this at midnight and I don’t remember it but it looks goof, i tried slow burn and failed, i will go down with scarletwidow and hawksilver because in the au anyone can be the same age, lets get this bread, lol, no powers au, so fuck it, they find Pietro which leads them to wanda, they find this little run down street gang knicknamed the Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-12-13 17:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21001343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Natasha and Clint are homeless.Then one day, they run into another runaway like them, Pietro Maximoff.Everything changes... and it’s a good change.read the tags because THIS IS SO FUCKING GAY!





	1. even though i don’t have a home (i have you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint literally trips over Pietro.  
That’s it.   
Oh, and clintasha brotp raids a kitchen.

Natasha rubbed her arm, massaging the sore muscles of her bicep. She rolled over on the sleeping bag and shook Clint awake. 

“Hey,” she whispered. 

Clint groaned in response, his messy blonde hair sticking up in spikes. “Nat, no,” he murmured sleepily. 

“They’re gonna kick us out, Clint.” She sighed, stuffing her few meager possessions in her backpack and slinging it over her shoulder. Clint yawned and sat up, helping Nat roll up the bag and grabbing his own backpack. He quickly shoved the sleeping bag in its sack and darted up. Sure enough, the front door chimed with someone coming in. 

“Hurry!” Nat hissed as she ran for the back door, pushing it open and stumbling into an alley. Clint followed her until they collapsed behind a dumpster, stomach growling. 

Clint’s hand brushed against something, and he reached deeper. Hidden behind the dumpster was a backpack, and not just a backpack. A rich kid backpack, the ones they order from Amazon and not the ones you find in the lost and found or the thrift stores. 

He tugged the strap, pulling it out and ripping open the top. Inside was not much, a few books, some paper and pencils, and water bottle. Upon further inspection there were ten dollars tucked inside a small pocket along with a jar of pepper spray and an unopened bag of tissues. 

“Damn,” Nat said as she fingered the material. “This some rich shit right here.”

Clint emptied the few things out of his ratty backpack. A set of darts, (a gift from his brother Barney) a couple stamps, lose change, some deodorant and cheap shampoo and several sets of clothes. He gave the pepper spray to Nat along with the books, and he kept the pencil and paper. They split the lip balm, there were two sticks, and Nat got the water bottle. 

He dumped the ratty backpack behind the dumpster and felt a twinge of guilt. What if the person needed the backpack.

Well, he probably needed it more.

“Cmon, let’s see if any of the shelters are open. I’m running low on pants, and I don’t mind snitching,” Nat said. The pair darted out of the alley, walking down the street to the nearest homeless shelter.

“Hello, how are you doing?” The tired receptionist asked. Nat looked down at her clothes, a ripped pair of black

Jeans and a grey t-shirt, old combat boots enclosed her feet with flapping soles. “Well, pretty shitty I guess.” 

The receptionist snorted, then glanced around to make sure no one heard. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Natalie Rushman,” she said. 

“Francis Bayton.”

The woman nodded, typing in a few words. “Alright, just go to the back and you’ll get a few supplies.”

The pair trudged to the back where an over simpering woman handed them some toiletries and protein bars, and sent them to a classroom.

Natasha knew what the classrooms were for. That’s where they push you to stay there, they control you, make sure you don’t leave. 

As much as a life on the streets is hard, it’s been hers since she was six years old. 

Nat and Clint slip into a nearby hallway, finding their way to the kitchens. 

“You take the cabinets I’ll take the fridge,” she whispered. Clint crawled over to a nearby cabinet and forced it open. Grabbing cans, he shoved the soups and crackers into his backpack, making sure to take from the back as to not lead suspicion. 

Natasha snagged a few water bottles before taking a few long lasting vegetables and a packet of ground beef. A couple of knives from the kitchen counter, several forks and spoons, a pair of tongs, and she was ready to go. 

“Clint,” she hissed. “You done?”

He nodded, and Nat walked to the window, climbing lithely onto the counter to open it. She and Clint were skinny enough to slip through, landing shaking on their feet. 

They darted into a nearby alley, and Clint tripped, falling face flat in the cement. 

“Clint!” Nat cried softly, helping him up. He looked down, and gasped. 

“Nat, there’s a person here!”

She looked down and saw a teen, no older then their great age of 17, with silver hair and Russian features. She dragged him out of the trash and took his pulse. “He’s alive, I think he just passed out.”

Clint breathed hard. “We should take him back.” 

“Clint,” Natasha warned.

“There’s plenty of space! No one goes over there anymore. Besides, we can’t just... leave him here!”

Nat growled, then grabbed the man’s legs and dumping him in a shopping cart. She threw the sleeping bag in after him, and then promptly rolled him out. 

Clint hurried behind her as they ran to the Hostel, dodging CCTV cameras as best as possible and making their way back to whatever they called home. 

Nat arrived first, despite the fact she was pushing the cart. It was an old abandoned store in the depths of the ghetto parts of Brownsville, right at the tip by the Queens border. Nat plucked the rusted key out of her pocket and unlocked the shaky and graffitied door. 

It swung open with a creak, and a couple of flies flew out. 

Natasha carried the guy in, laying him down on the clumsy mess of blankets while Clint hauled their stuff inside. 

The store was small, creaky, and had more broken windows than any place he’d seen, but they had the key that Nat had found in the cabinet, and besides, it was dry, sheltered, and no one bothered you if you waved a knife in their face. 

“Clint, get me some water,” Nat ordered. He obeyed, taking out one of their precious plastic water bottles and giving it to her. She opened it and dribbled a few drops down the guy’s throat. 

He choked slightly, lurching up with wild eyes. He started to attack, and Nat stopped him. 

“Hey! We aren’t trying to hurt you, we promise!” His movements grew more legarthic as he slowed. “Wha?” His voice slurred and dropped quickly. Clint couldn’t help but notice his eyes were the most brilliant blue. 

“We found you in the alley,” Clint said. “You looked pretty out of it, so we brought you back to our place to fix you up.”

“You got a pretty old place,” he croaked. His accent was thick and rough, some brand of Russian. 

Clint laughed, and looked down at the guy. “I’m Clint,” he said.

“Natasha.”

“I’m Pietro,” he rasped. “Can I have some of that water?

Nat nodded, and helped him sit up to drink. After a few sips his hand started to wobble and Nat grabbed the bottle just before his hand fell. 

“Thanks,” Pietro murmured, his accent raspy and low. He fell asleep before his head hit the blankets. 

Natasha screwed the water bottle back up, and placed it in the bag. “So, we just wait until he gets better?” Clint asked.

Natasha yawned. “What choice do we have?” She sat down on the blankets, her red hair splayed out. “God I’m tired.”

“Me too,” Clint replied. He dropped his backpack and hid both of them in a cabinet. (Just incase someone would find them.) He settled down on Natasha’s side, snuggling into her warmth. Nat’s arms folded around him and pulled him close, his head tucked beneath hers. 


	2. you’re a lot more than I thought (and still more than I dreamed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat meets Wanda, and the gayness erupts in a gaycano.

Clint woke up first this time, in the afternoon. He realized they’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day, and sat up groaning. His back never even got sore anymore, two years of no bed had given himself something of a strong spinal chord. He looked over, his still sleepy brain expecting to see Natasha’s red curls. 

Instead, silver hair brushed his cheek, and he realized with a blush he’d fallen asleep inches from Pietro. He scooted a little farther away, but continued to stare at Pietro. 

His cheeks were slightly hollow, to the point where you could tell it was more than facial features. It looked like he’d been on the streets for a while. Honestly, Clint didn’t know what to think. He’d dragged this guy to their spot, and what for? 

He probably wasn’t even gay. 

Clint sighed, rather loudly, and Natasha stirred on the other side of Pietro. 

“You pining shit,” she grumbled, propping herself up on her elbows. 

Clint blushed again, his eyes wide and jaw set. “How did you know?”

“Come on Clint, the last time you made that sigh it was because of Laura.”

He stiffened a bit at the mention of that name, and Natasha winced. “Sorry... just slipped out.”

Laura was his biggest mistake. He’d gotten all caught up in high school love, and one night went to far then boom- two weeks later she was crying and saying she was pregnant. Laura kept the baby, named her Lila. But when the baby came out... it was very clear that it wasn’t Clint’s. 

The baby was half African American, and Clint... he couldn’t take it. He left, ran away from his abusive dad with the only thing holding him together gone too. 

Clint shifted on the sleeping bag again, then jumped up to the cabinet, pulling out the backpacks. 

“What do you want? We should eat the veggies. I can’t believe you brought vegetables!”

Nat snickered, and leapt up, snatching the small bag of carrots from Clint’s grasp and handing him the celery. 

“Come on, bunny,” she joked. 

“Choke on your carrots, rabbit,” he quipped. Nat smirked, crunching down on the carrot. It was one of the good kinds, where they don’t taste like water and horse shit. 

After she’d finished half the carrots, Nat tucked the bag away. So did Clint, and his gaze flickered over to Pietro. “Should we wake him up?”

“Nah, let him sleep. But if you’re crushing on him that hard...” Nat’s eyebrows furrowed, her face half grin and half concern. “You know he can’t stay here forever. He might even have people of his own.”

Clint sighed for a third time, hugging his knees close to his chest. He rested his chin, biting his lip. “I don’t even know the guy’s last name,” he grumbled. “And I’m head over fucking heels.”

Nat rolled her eyes. “Please, get to know the guy first.” 

Clint punched her arm playfully, and something shattered outside. 

Clint looked up just in time to see a spray of glass, and a brunette head. The girl clumsily climbed in, tumbling to the floor. She flicked open a red switchblade, and Natasha drew her own knife. 

“Where is my brother!” She hissed. 

Clint grabbed Natasha’s wrist. “She’s looking for Pietro!”

The girl’s eyes flickered behind the pair, and saw his silver hair on the blankets. “PIETRO!” She cried. 

The boy sat up, his hair in all directions. He caught sight of the girl and lurched up, catching her as she fell into his arms. “Sister,” he whispered, stroking her tangled hair. They broke apart a few moments later, and Pietro grabbed the girl’s hand. “They helped me,” he said. “Gave me water and possibly saved me from some street pervert.”

Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave the girl’s, green eyes staring into green. 

“I’m- I’m Wanda,” she stuttered in an adorable accent just like Pietro’s. 

“Clint,” he said. He nudged Nat’s shoulder. “This gay as fuck idiot is Natasha.”

Pietro snorted, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Oh Wanda.”

Clint snapped his fingers, and both girls broke their gaze. 

“You were saying, Natalia?” Clint smirked. 

She punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“Wow,” Wanda said, looking at the scorched and moldy walls. “Nice place.” 

Clint snorted, turning it into a cough. Pietro’s eyes sparkled, staring at Clint. He noticed, looking over, and tripped, slamming his elbow against an old chair. 

Nat laughed this time, while Clint groaned and grabbed his elbow.

“How did you find Pietro so fast?” Nat asked. 

Wanda lifted a burner phone. “I tracked him.”

“Damn, y’all got phones?” Clint stood up, still rubbing his elbow. 

“Yeah... well, we were rich then our dad threw Pietro out for being gay... I followed him saying I was lesbian. So we had a lot of connections and managed to get these for free.”

Pietro tugged on his silver hair, an expression of... sadness? Embarrassment?

“Well, um, my dad beat me for the same thing,” Clint supplied awkwardly. His cloudy blue eyes fixed on Pietro’s bright ones. Pietro blinked, breaking the stare, and Nat bit her lip in amusement. 

Pietro rubbed his forehead, groaning. “Wanda, what exactly happened before I passed out?”

“You went bat shit crazy and started talking about how hot scruffy homeless boys are then passed out,” Wanda deadpanned. “I ran off for water, because you hadn’t drunken any in almost 24 hours, you dumbass.”

Cling choked on nothing at the first part, and Pietro winked at him. “Right... dehydration. And why didn’t you pass out?”

“Because I wasn’t a self sacrificing idiot and drank from the bottle.”

Pietro clicked his fingers. “Right, right.”

Natasha shifted nervously, something she never did. “Um... so do you guys have a hideout or...?”

Wanda’s fingers twitched. “We, um, just ran away two weeks ago.” She gestured to her torn black dress and dirty red jacket. “As you can see... we’re not doing well.”

“Yet you wield a switchblade like a fucking queen,” Nat mumbled. 

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she said. “Do you... wanna stay?”

Wanda nodded, her green doe eyes wide with excitement. “This is amazing compared to the places we slept in the past few days.”

Natasha walked forward and held out her hand. “Welcome to the Gay Homeless Shits.”

Wanda laughed and took her hand, shaking it awkwardly. Nay dropped the handshake and wrapped arm around Wanda’s shoulders. She tended then loosened in a flash. 

“You need a wash-up,” Nat commented. She strode over, opening a small, half rotten door to reveal a busted pipe sticking out of the wall. “If you giggle it and turn the knob water comes out. And here, take this.” She shoved an old terry blanket to the girl. 

“I- I don’t know what to say-“

“Oh save it cutie, pride or apologies get you nowhere on the streets.” Nat playfully shoved Wanda to the bathroom, and turned back to Clint, her eyes panicked. “Clint, I’m fucked.” 

Pietro laughed, his white teeth glinting. Silver hair fanned his eyes in such a way that made Clint want to brush it away. “She’s fucked for you too.”

“PIETRO!” Came a shriek from the bathroom. 


	3. i think i’ve found my family (with you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is a Dumb Gay Bitch™ who is awkward for the first time in his life.   
There’s a lot of blushing.  
ADORABLE FLIRTING GAYNADO READ AT YOUR OWN CHEESEY FLUFF RISK

After Wanda left the bathroom, hair wet and a couple drops falling onto her jacket, she shoved the blanket at Pietro. “Get in there you little shit, or I’ll embarrass you next.” 

Pietro snorted, elbows crossed around the towel. “As if you have anything over me.”

Wanda immediately turned back to Clint. “He tugs on his hair around people he likes. Can’t physically stop it.” She pushed Pietro into the bathroom, silencing his cries of annoyance. 

Nat snickered, offering a water bottle to Wanda. “You’re hungry?” 

“Famished,” she said. “They put out an APB so I’ve barely had any chance to get food.” Wanda pulled out a crumpled twenty from her pocket.

It was the first time Nat had touched money more then a five dollar bill in almost a year. “You look like you need it. Get some pads too, while you’re at it.” 

Natasha laughed, tucking the bill in her boot. “You will not believe how good I’ve gotten at making pads out of paper towels. 

Wanda grimaced, then took a swig of water. Her fingers twitched again. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Honestly cutie, I can’t believe you haven’t caught up yet. You don’t have to thank me. Being around you is thanks enough.”

Wanda smiled, then her eyelids flicked, and she realized just how tired she was. 

“You can sleep,” Nat assured. It was the softest he had ever heard her voice. “Go ahead. You can stay with us as long as you want. No one will hurt you or your brother here.”

Wanda smiled as she nodded off, her head nestled into Natasha’s shoulder. 

Clint flashed her a subtle thumbs up, and the water cut out. Pietro stepped out of the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his bare chest. 

Clint’s eyes bugged, and he couldn’t help but stare. His eyes mapped the boy’s abs, and was almost (very, who was he kidding) sad when he pulled the grey t-shirt back over himself. “Wands too tired?”

Natasha nodded as best she could. “She’s pretty out of it. I got some water in her system though.”

Pietro nodded. “Thanks,” he said. His eyes flicked around the store, really taking it in. 

The ex-bathroom was next to another hole in the wall (maybe a dead sink?) and a couple of what used to be counters. There were a few cabinets but mostly just bits of rotten wood, leaves, some mouse shit, and dirt littered the floor. Pietro began to push it all to one corner, dumping as much as possible out of the broken window. 

“What are you doing?” Clint asked, apprehensively. 

“Cleaning up. Heaven knows, your sorry ass needs it.”

Nat snickered softly, and Clint bent down and threw a handful of leaves at Pietro. He shrieked, throwing his own back. 

Natasha shushed then, motioning to Wanda’s thankfully still sleeping form. 

The leaf fight continued in silence. 

After the leaves were cleared, the mouse shit was mostly gone, and any useful wood was stacked in the corner, Clint picked up Nat’s crowbar. He scraped a bit of mold off the wall, or tried to. 

The wall crumbled until he was left with a hole big enough for his hand. 

Pietro laughed, and walked over. “You’re putting to much pressure on the wall.” He carefully took the bar, running it lightly across a spot of mold. It fell off, no splinters attached.

“See? Easy.”

Clint grasped the bar, but only succeeded in making another hole. Nat watched on with amusement. 

Pietro carefully held Clint’s hands on the bar, showing him the best way. Carefully he guided, and boom- Clint was as red as a strawberry and scraping mold like a pro. 

“See? Easy,” Pietro quirked, scrunching his nose a little.His silver hair brushed Clint’s nose, just barely. “Just like that.”

“Uh Huh. Just like that.” Clint’s eyes never left Pietro’s until the crowbar slipped from his hand. He managed to duck down and catch it before it clattered on the floor. 

Nat shook her head playfully, careful not to disturb Wanda. “You gay bitch.”

Both Clint and Pietro blushed as Clint spluttered, the crowbar waving wildly. 

“Goddamn it Barton,” Nat growled, then went back to playing with the ends of Wanda’s hair. She couldn’t help but smile as the girl sighed into a deeper sleep in her arms. 


	4. getting to know you (getting to know all about you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF. THE GAYEST, CUTEST MOST AWKWARD FLIRTY FLUFF EVER.

After Wanda left the bathroom, hair wet and a couple drops falling onto her jacket, she shoved the blanket at Pietro. “Get in there you little shit, or I’ll embarrass you next.” 

Pietro snorted, elbows crossed around the towel. “As if you have anything over me.”

Wanda immediately turned back to Clint. “He tugs on his hair around people he likes. Can’t physically stop it.” She pushed Pietro into the bathroom, silencing his cries of annoyance. 

Nat snickered, offering a water bottle to Wanda. “You’re hungry?” 

“Famished,” she said. “They put out an APB so I’ve barely had any chance to get food.” Wanda pulled out a crumpled twenty from her pocket.

It was the first time Nat had touched money more then a five dollar bill in almost a year. “You look like you need it. Get some pads too, while you’re at it.” 

Natasha laughed, tucking the bill in her boot. “You will not believe how good I’ve gotten at making pads out of paper towels. 

Wanda grimaced, then took a swig of water. Her fingers twitched again. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Honestly cutie, I can’t believe you haven’t caught up yet. You don’t have to thank me. Being around you is thanks enough.”

Wanda smiled, then her eyelids flicked, and she realized just how tired she was. 

“You can sleep,” Nat assured. It was the softest he had ever heard her voice. “Go ahead. You can stay with us as long as you want. No one will hurt you or your brother here.”

Wanda smiled as she nodded off, her head nestled into Natasha’s shoulder. 

Clint flashed her a subtle thumbs up, and the water cut out. Pietro stepped out of the bathroom, the towel wrapped around his bare chest. 

Clint’s eyes bugged, and he couldn’t help but stare. His eyes mapped the boy’s abs, and was almost (very, who was he kidding) sad when he pulled the grey t-shirt back over himself. “Wands too tired?”

Natasha nodded as best she could. “She’s pretty out of it. I got some water in her system though.”

Pietro nodded. “Thanks,” he said. His eyes flicked around the store, really taking it in. 

The ex-bathroom was next to another hole in the wall (maybe a dead sink?) and a couple of what used to be counters. There were a few cabinets but mostly just bits of rotten wood, leaves, some mouse shit, and dirt littered the floor. Pietro began to push it all to one corner, dumping as much as possible out of the broken window. 

“What are you doing?” Clint asked, apprehensively. 

“Cleaning up. Heaven knows, your sorry ass needs it.”

Nat snickered softly, and Clint bent down and threw a handful of leaves at Pietro. He shrieked, throwing his own back. 

Natasha shushed then, motioning to Wanda’s thankfully still sleeping form. 

The leaf fight continued in silence. 

After the leaves were cleared, the mouse shit was mostly gone, and any useful wood was stacked in the corner, Clint picked up Nat’s crowbar. He scraped a bit of mold off the wall, or tried to. 

The wall crumbled until he was left with a hole big enough for his hand. 

Pietro laughed, and walked over. “You’re putting to much pressure on the wall.” He carefully took the bar, running it lightly across a spot of mold. It fell off, no splinters attached.

“See? Easy.”

Clint grasped the bar, but only succeeded in making another hole. Nat watched on with amusement. 

Pietro carefully held Clint’s hands on the bar, showing him the best way. Carefully he guided, and boom- Clint was as red as a strawberry and scraping mold like a pro. 

“See? Easy,” Pietro quirked, scrunching his nose a little.His silver hair brushed Clint’s nose, just barely. “Just like that.”

“Uh Huh. Just like that.” Clint’s eyes never left Pietro’s until the crowbar slipped from his hand. He managed to duck down and catch it before it clattered on the floor. 

Nat shook her head playfully, careful not to disturb Wanda. “You gay bitch.”

Both Clint and Pietro blushed as Clint spluttered, the crowbar waving wildly. 

“Goddamn it Barton,” Nat growled, then went back to playing with the ends of Wanda’s hair. She couldn’t help but smile as the girl sighed into a deeper sleep in her arms. 


	5. can i try something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Pietro have a midnight talk.

It got really dark that night. The type of dark that’d be co portent muffling if not for the roaring metropolis that surrounded them. 

Still, Pietro couldn’t sleep. He’d gotten used to the city noises years ago- after moving here for high school from Sokovia. But somehow, something tonight kept him awake. 

He remembered that night, the night they’d left. 

Wanda was crying. Her hands shivered as she glared down at her mother. “I TRUSTED YOU!” She cried. Pietro’s mother shook in her seat. 

“Wanda? What-“

He was interrupted by a crashing noise, and turned around just in time to see the second glass shatter. 

“GET OUT, FREAK!” His father roared, and Pietro froze. 

He knew. 

“Wanda...” he turned back to her, his voice soft.

“I’m sorry,” she choked through tears. “It just slipped...”

“OUT!” Pietro’s father bellowed again, and Pietro backed up, tripping over his own feet. Wanda stood in front of him. 

“You’d rather condemn your son to a life on the streets then him being gay!” It was less of a question and more or a statement. “Well, your worst fear’s come true, Dad. I’m gay too.” 

She dragged Pietro out of the door and down the street before he collapsed, his chest heaving and tears budding in his eyes.

“It’s gonna be ok brother,” she whispered. “We’ll be alright.”

Pietro flashed back, a tear rolling down his face. Blankets shifted behind him. He heard footsteps and prayed it was Wanda. 

“You ok?” 

The voice wasn’t his sister’s, but somehow it was alright. Pietro hastily wiped a tear from his eye. “Fine. Just... reminiscing.”

Clint’s eyes softened. He plopped down on the floor, looking out at the city sky. “When I brought my first girlfriend home, my dad was overjoyed. Kept ranting on about how I’d finally overgrown my gay phase.” His laugh was short and bitter. “After... well, we fooled around. Forgot condoms, you can guess the rest.” He shifted, his hand on Pietro’s wrist. “You can imagine my surprise when me and my white girlfriend gave birth to a half black baby.”

Pietro leaned into him, hair brushing against his shoulder. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” Clint breathed. “Without that, I kinda didn’t see a reason to stay. With my dad beating me up every other week just because he could and my mom just trying her best to ignore it- it was best.”

Pietro’s head rested on Clint’s shoulder, their hands migrating together like magnets made to attract. 

“Do you-“

“Can I-“

Both boys spoke at the same time. Pietro blushed. “You go.”

“Can I... try something?” Clint asked. His dark blue eyes seemed to sparkle in the light. 

“Sure.” The word was out of Pietro’s mouth before he even knew it. His breathing was fast and shallow as Clint sat up straighter and twisted to Pietro. The Sokovian boy twitched apprehensively as Clint leaned in, his lips brushing against Pietro’s. 

“Is this ok?” 

He could only nod before Clint crashed into him, lips connecting and sparking. Pietro’s hand flew to Clint’s jaw, caressing it as they dived into the game of push and pull, fighting for control. Clint’s arms wrapped around Pietro’s waist, scrambling to pull him closer.

Tongues clashed and Pietro moaned, quietly enough not to wake the girls. Clint buried his hand in Pietro’s hair, tugging slightly on the silver locks. Pietro’s hands were everywhere, on Clint’s waist, ghosting his hips, trailing down his spinal chord. 

The two eventually fell apart, after having kissed until they couldn’t breathe. Clint’s lips were red and blood filled, and Pietro’s hair made him look like a Russian Einstein. 

Pietro blinked twice. “Well that was fucking amazing.”

Clint laughed, his tone much clearer and lighter then the short, bitter way it had been before. “Definitely. So... can I call you my boyfriend?”

Pietro responded with a short but fierce kiss. “Sure as hell can, ocean eyes.”

Clint’s heart thundered, staring into Pietro’s eyes. “God Damn,” he muttered. “I really did get the best of the best.”

Pietro smirked and leaned in for a third kiss, and this time Clint leaned in with his full force too. 


	6. pull me closer(and fight for me to stay)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro gets in some deep shit.   
MEET THE AVENGERS

Pietro woke early the next morning. He rolled over, his shoulder aching slightly from the wood floor. Clint’s eyes blinked open. “Hey dipshit,” he grumbled.

Pietro chuckled, brushing some of Clint’s spiky hair away. He leaned in for a quick kiss, Clint smiling into it. 

“I’m gonna go out before the sun gets to hot,” he said. “Grab some more water bottles, some shelter’s got to be open.”

“Okay,” Clint said. “Be back in a few hours, ok?”

“Got it.” Pulling on his sneakers, Pietro grabbed his baseball cap that covered his eyes. 

Walking out of the store, he made his way towards Queens. There was a short cry from an alley beside him, and he looked inside. There was a short boy, brown fluffy hair and doe eyes getting attacked by a hulking guy. The kid was barely taking the punches. 

He ran in, shoving the guy. “HEY!” 

The man grabbed a piece of metal, swinging it at Pietro. He ducked, and heard a sickening crack. Whipping his head around, he saw that the rod had his the boy, knocking him cleanly out. 

The man laughed darkly and ran, dropping the metal at Pietro’s feet. 

“BRUCE!” Someone screamed, and another brunette ran in the alley. He saw Bruce collapsed on the floor, and the metal by Pietro’s feet. His face hardened and he jabbed a metal rod, hitting Pietro’s arm and tasing him and boom- he passed out. 

His last thought was, Clint’s gonna be so pissed.

Pietro woke up suddenly, and jolted his hands. They were handcuffed behind an chair.“Fucking hell,” he groaned. 

“Who are you? Why did you attack Bruce?” A buff blonde dude questioned. His hair was short but there was an eyepatch over his right eye. 

“I didn’t attack him, I protected him! There was this dude wailing on him in the alley, and I stepped in. I ducked when he swung and it hit... Bruce, you said?”

Someone kicked his chair leg from behind. “Cut the bullshit.” The brunette boy who tased him walked forward. “Then what were you doing in the alley?”

“I was going to raid a homeless shelter, my group need more supplies.”

“You’re homeless?” A guy with a metal arm asked. He almost sounded sympathetic.

“What’s it to you?” He growled. “Let me go. I didn’t touch him. I tried to help him! He’ll corroborate, I swear!”

Another teen, this time with wafted brown hair stepped up. “Well, unfortunately, he’s still knocked out. Thanks to you.”

“I told you, I didn’t do it!”

Clint looked trough the window nervously. “He’s still not back yet.”

Wanda looked at her burner phone again. “It’s been three hours. Do we go after him?”

Clint was already rummaging around in a cabinet. He pulled out a bow, strung it, and tugged out a quiver. 

“Damn!” Wanda cried. “You an archer?”

“Sort of,” he grunted. Nat pulled a small handgun from her bag and cocked it. “Let’s just say we’re a little better at this than you might be.” He shouldered the bow and covered it with a jacket. “You got a location?”

“Four blocks over. I checked, it’s an abandoned condominium. We almost bunked there one night but got scared off by a couple bangs and crashes. It’s occupied.”

Clint’s eyes hardened. “We’re getting Pietro back.” Nat stuck the gun in her belt and Wanda took out her switchblade. 

“I swear,” Pietro repeated for the twentieth time. “I didn’t do it.”

“IT SEEMS LIKE YOU DID!” Thor yelled. He’d been here for hours, and the only thing he’d learned was their names. 

“I swear, on my life, my story is true,” Pietro yelled. He jerked his wrists, the handcuffs keeping him on the chair were unrelenting. “I SWEAR-“

He was cut off by an arrow burying itself two inches in the wall above Thor’s head.


	7. pull me closer(now that you’ve found me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finds Pietro.  
GAY.   
that’s it fuckers

Pietro’s eyes followed the line of the arrow and saw him. Standing there, bow outstretched in his hand, several more arrows in his quiver. 

Tony made a move to grab one of his inventions. In just a second, Nat stepped out. Her gun was loaded, locked, and aimed for Thor’s head. “I wouldn’t.” Her gaze was trained on Pietro. “You kidnapped our friend, you pay for it.”

“What, you’re gonna kill us Carrots? Tony sneered. His tone grew a little softer. “We caught him beating up one of us.”

Wanda stepped out. “Piet?”

“No, it’s not true, and I’ve been trying to tell you! There was another guy beating up on him, I stepped in, the man swung a bar of metal at me so I ducked and it hit Bruce in the head!”

Clint ran foward, pulling out one of the knives Nat stole from the warehouse. He pointed it at Stark. “Key.”

Tony handed it over, realizing he really didn’t have much of a choice. 

Clint unlocked the handcuffs, and pulled Pietro up. The silver haired boy immediately grabbed Clint’s hips, pulling him close into a shattering kiss. 

Clint dropped the knife and his bow, arms automatically folding around Pietro’s neck. They broke apart eventually, and he rested his forehead on Clint’s. “Oh thank god,” he mumbled. “You’re here and somehow you’re the hottest version of Robin Hood.”

Clint laughed, detaching himself. “Glad you’re ok, Roadrunner.”

“CLINT YOU MADE THE FIRST MOVE, FUCK!” Natasha screeched. She shoved the gun in her waist band and grabbed Wanda’s hand, twisting her around and planting a kiss right on her mouth. 

They stayed, entwined as Wanda’s hand went to catch Nat’s jaw and then they separated. 

“Well, I’m sure glad you made a move,” Wanda whispered. 

“NATASHA’S GOT A GIRLFRIEND!” Clint yelled, and Pietro cried, “Use protection Wands!”

The latter facepalmed, rolling her eyes. “And when did you catch Mr Robin Hood over here?”

“Very much long before you made a move,” Pietro snarked. 

“I’m sorry, hate to interrupt the let’s make a relationship movement of the decade, but we still haven’t sorted this mess out!” Tony yelled. 

“Tony? Wha... “ came a voice from behind them. A bewildered Bruce stood up, walking over. “Hey! That’s the guy who stopped the mugger!”

Pietro glared at Tony. “See? I wasn’t lying, dipshit!”

Thor enveloped Bruce in a hug, laying a chaste kiss. “Glad you’re alright.” 

“GAY!” Wanda yelled. “I LOVE GAY!”

Everyone looked at her. “Sorry, I’m Wanda. Pretty sure I am legally high on serotonin right now because NATASHA FUCKING ROMANOFF KISSED ME OH MY GOD!”

Pietro laughed, his silver hair poking in all directions. 

“Well, lady, you’ll be happy to know literally everyone here is gay. I’m with Stephen, Steve’s with Bucky, and Thor’s with Bruce.”

Wanda breathed deeply, composing herself. “Ok. Wait... you’re the Avengers?” It was less of a statement and more of a question.

“How do you know us?”

“Before I got kicked out, the uh, metal arm dude and the guy with a shield stopped some rando assaulter who cornered me in an alley.”

“You’re the Russian girl!” Bucky said.

“Sokovian. And my accent faded a lot since then.”

“Please tell me you got more responsible,” Steve joked. 

“Honestly I gotta.”

“So... you’re street rats too?” Clint asked. 

“Yeah. Basically a combination of abusive parents, bad foster homes, and dead moms. And you?”

“Homophobic parents. The Maximoffs just got kicked out. Nat’s dad honestly didn’t care who she kissed, just as long as there was someone to hit. My dad used it as an excuse.”

“Damn man, sorry,” Bucky said. 

“Clint, can I ask why you are Robin Hood?” Pietro asked. Clint laughed. “I ran away twice. First to the circus, second to New York.”

“The circus? Seriously?” Wanda said. 

“Well, then ask Thor why he carries that weird block shaped hammer! Or Bucky and his arm. Or Steve and the metal shield!”

“Long story short- we’re all weird people,” Nat said. “Wanda? Do you wanna go home?”

She nodded, then stepped forward. “Here,” she said, writing a number on the dilapidated wall with an old sharpie. “That’s my burner phone number. Call us if anything bad happens, okay?”

And with that, they left the Avengers, and returned to their home. 


End file.
